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Some voices have color, a distinct hay. If death were to have a
voice, I presume it would be blue, with a tinge of gray on the borders. When
death speaks in his solemn voice, we ought to heed well to it. That is the
truest voice we hear in all our life. It is true, absolute and unmoved by those
who hear it. Death is the narrator of this story. It is not a cruel voice, not
even furious. If anything, it is a voice of infinite calm, almost serene,
although tired at times. Death for Markus Zusak is Conrad’s Marlow. It is the
story –teller, and also a participant in the story. The Book Thief is a story written in the backdrop of second-world
war, in Nazi Germany. It goes exceptional talent of Markus Zusak that he so
delicately creates the world of a small German Town, in the throes of the
volatile, history defining times. It was a time of sadness and violence, of
dy…

In a time of universal deceit- telling the truth is a
revolutionary act.- George Orwell. A
dream rose from desperation. Hassled by blatant corruption, Indians rose in
protest against a thoroughly corrupt government which largely laughed off those
protest. Those in power were not concerned, worried. They were amused,
they laughed it off, they asked the people who questioned corruption in
embarrassed, scared voices- “Are you nuts?” Then, suddenly it was Y2k or Java or Cloud to use a technology
equivalent. Everyone was doing it and no one knew what it meant. Technology
democratized the media and the Social media split into two. It did do something
good. It churned the politics and challenged the status quo. It broke the
collaboration of convenience among the top two national parties. Narendra Modi
was brought in as change of guard for BJP. Many called it attempt to polarize.
I do not look at it that way. It was an attempt to offer what people wanted, a
fresh face away from the conniving …